


and through the warm radio static (i couldn't hear my stage direction)

by waterleveldropping



Series: jonelias week 2020 [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Manipulation, No Underage Sex, Power Dynamics, Teacher-Student Relationship, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26099092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterleveldropping/pseuds/waterleveldropping
Summary: Jon feels a bit like he’s being held hostage here, but that’s a stupid thought, so he stares out the window and forces himself to enjoy the music Elias plays over the car stereo.---Teenage Jon is part of the ham radio club at school. Elias, his club advisor, drives him home when Jon's grandmother forgets to pick him up.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: jonelias week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860007
Comments: 9
Kudos: 38
Collections: Jonelias Week 2020





	and through the warm radio static (i couldn't hear my stage direction)

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt "manipulation/caretaking"
> 
> warning for one instance of misgendering from jon's grandmother. it is very short and not done out of malice, just unawareness.

She was late again.

The sound of the pelting rain on the overhang Jon was standing under did little to calm his fraying nerves. It was now a quarter past two o’clock, and there was still no sign of his grandmother’s old volkswagon in the school parking lot. 

The first few times she’d been late, Jon had worried. He knew she was getting up there in age and he wasn’t stupid; he was actually quite smart for a 14 year-old. So smart that he frequently made top marks on his tests in fact-- but he knew now that she was just prone to forgetting unless he wrote it down for her. She was probably out grocery shopping or getting her hair colored, unaware of the time.

The parking lot was almost empty. Most of the professors and other faculty had gone home earlier than usual to avoid the downpour. Lucky him, he guessed. As of right now, he was effectively stranded here until his gran remembered he existed. 

He’d joined the club in the first place because of his grandmother. Over dinner one evening she’d asked if he’d been doing any extracurriculars. He’d replied no, he hadn’t, as sports or art were never really either of his things. It was then she’d recalled that his father had enjoyed ham radio when he was Jon’s age, and driven home the point with the fact that extracurriculars certainly don’t hurt on uni applications. 

So, he’d joined the ham radio club at the beginning of the year. To please his gran, as well as hopefully get a few points in his favor when it came time to apply to schools.

Jon’s saving grace was the promise of university at the end of this all. The first two years had been difficult, but the stress that came with preparing to prepare for his A-levels was something else entirely. The current plan was to study as much as he could, get into a school somewhere far away (maybe outside of London, he wasn’t sure just yet), and finally live on his own. 

“Jonathan?” came a familiar voice from behind. “What are you still doing here?” 

Jon turned to find his radio club advisor staring at him from the open door. Oh, well this was embarrassing. “No, uh, my grans late picking me up. Sorry,” he didn’t know why he apologized just then, but by the look of it the other man was getting ready to leave himself, umbrella almost open and leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

“No need to apologize,” Elias smiled. “Is she usually this late?” 

“I think she forgot I have club today, sir.” he squinted through an awkward smile.

Elias paused. “Hm. That is a pickle, isn’t it? Well, no use standing around out there. Come on in for now.” he held the door and stepped aside while Jon ducked in with an awkward smile. 

“I don’t want to take up your time if you were just about to head home…” Jon fiddled with the hem of his coat. “I can wait by myself until she gets here, it’s really not a problem.” In truth, Elias waiting with him would probably only stress him out more. 

The advisor of his club also happened to be his old history teacher; Jon had known him for quite a few years now. Mister Bouchard had always been kind to him, even if he was known for being one of the stricter professors in the department. 

“That’s alright,” Elias replied calmly. He really didn’t seem inconvenienced by the situation at all. “Tell you what, how about you help me with something I’ve been putting off, and I’ll drive you home as thanks?” 

Jon froze. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not asking,” Elias grinned. “I’m offering. Come on then.” and started down the hall, leaving Jon no choice but to follow. They were heading back towards the radio station room, if Jon wasn’t mistaken. 

“I’ve had these boxes of radios and parts clogging up the supply closet,” he explained as they walked. “The janitor’s been rather astute about letting me know how much she doesn’t appreciate them in there, but it’s a bit much for me to carry on my own.”

They came to a stop in front of the hallway supply closet. “I’m assuming that’s where I come in?” Jon asked.

“Sharp as ever,” Elias notes, unlocking the door with a  _ click.  _ The scent of bleach and mildew assaults Jon’s nose immediately. The closet is mostly full of cleaning supplies, but houses various other things as well. School spirit signs, anti-smoking posters, and sure enough: a few old boxes of radios on the top shelf. Elias has no problem reaching them and handing them over to Jon, who handles them as best he can, despite their weight. He’d never been particularly strong, and he was slightly underweight for his age. 

It didn’t help that he wasn’t exactly getting the same muscle growth as his other male classmates. Instead, he’d been forced to wear more layers and baggier clothing to hide the uncomfortable parts of his body that developed despite him willing them not to.

Elias, on the other hand, had always treated him like any other boy-- even when classmates didn’t. It was part of the reason he didn’t hate coming to radio club every Friday, even though it was at the beginning of the weekend. Not that the support made him less nervous, if anything it amplified it, but was nonetheless appreciated.

“Look alive, Jonathan.” Elias reminds him as he places a second box atop the one in Jon’s arms. “Here, I’m parked in the staff lot. The white ford escort, you can’t miss it. I’ll be right out.” he sets down the ring of keys on the second box, and Jon starts out the doors, wondering if he really seems like the type of person who can tell cars apart. 

Thankfully, there are only a few cars still in the parking lot, (and only one white one) and Jon finds Elias’s easily. It feels bizarre, unlocking his professor’s car like this, but he reminds himself that Mister Bouchard was the one who asked him to in the first place. Jon’s never been the type to get friendly with professors. He knows some students are, and he’s heard on more than one occasion that it ended with both parties in serious hot water. Elias is too casual around him, true, but he’s too professional for them to ever end up like that. 

Hang on. 

Did he just entertain being in a relationship with Mister Bouchard? 

Jon shakes his head clear as he places the second box into the trunk. No, he didn’t. He’s never even had a proper relationship with someone his age, let alone a  _ professor.  _ He is not thinking about how nice it is for Elias to offer to drive him home, how it makes him feel like someone actually cares about him when he doesn’t necessarily have any close friends to speak of. But that’s just it, Jon settles on. It’s normal, albeit a bit pathetic, to be lonely and therefore enjoy the company of a nice, older gentleman.

He winces. Why did he think of it like that.

The distant sound of the door opening from behind him shakes him from his thoughts. Elias is struggling to keep it open while holding three boxes full of radio equipment, and Jon quickly rushes to his aid. 

“Right on time,” Elias notes with no hidden relief. “Would you mind holding the umbrella for me?” 

Jon nods in response. Though he is significantly shorter than his professor, he does at least manage to keep both of them (mostly) dry on the walk back to the car. They load the rest of the boxes into the trunk-- well, Elias does, Jon has been designated to hold the umbrella over both of them. When they’re done, Elias shuts the trunk and tells Jon to go around the side to the passenger seat while he runs back inside to grab his bag. 

Jon does so, trying his best not to get the seats too wet. It’s only after he’s been sat for a few moments does he notice the smell. The air inside Elias’s car is heady, almost thick. There’s the smell of leather and somewhere along it the smell of pot, which Jon only recognizes from a few classmates offering him some under the bleachers once. Mister Bouchard certainly didn’t strike him as the type, but then again, he knows next to nothing about his personal life.

Elias is back in the car soon enough. “Right,” he announces as he puts the key in the ignition. The car stutters to life slowly, no slower than his grandmother’s ancient station wagon.

“Would you mind terribly if we stopped by my house to drop this all off?” Elias asks.

Jon does mind, if he’s honest. He’s cold and wet down to his shoes and he very badly wants to go home. Instead, he pulls in a breath and replies “Of course not. I’ll help you bring it inside.” Elias smiles a thank you and turns onto the highway. 

Jon feels a bit like he’s being held hostage here, but that’s a stupid thought, so he stares out the window and forces himself to enjoy the music Elias plays over the car stereo. 

* * *

Halfway into bringing the boxes through Elias’s front door, Jon trips and falls onto the cement. The radio parts come crashing down around him, and Elias is back out the door a few seconds after. 

It’s only a scratch on his upper arm, though it does bleed quite a lot. The leather of Elias’s couch makes him even more nervous he’ll accidentally bleed on it. He can’t bear to think back to the image of Elias leaning down to place a towel to his arm on his doorstep. There’s something about it that makes Jon’s face burn with embarrassment. He’d been so gentle with him and--

No, no. 

He makes himself sip the tea Elias made for him and forces the image from his mind. 

“Feeling any better?” Elias asks as he takes a seat in the arm chair across from him. 

Jon nods quickly. “Yes,” he pauses, focusing on the ripples in his tea his shaking hands make. “I… I’m so sorry again, sir.” 

“Come now. You’ve apologized enough, and it wasn’t your fault in the first place. I should’ve told you to mind the step.” 

When Jon doesn’t respond with more than a solemn smile, Elias asks “Does it still sting?” his eyes falling to Jon’s elbow. Jon shakes his head in response.

“Mind if I take a look at it?” Elias follows up with, and Jon nods to that despite himself. 

There are a few excruciating seconds of silence where Elias’s hands ghost Jon’s skin. “It isn’t too deep, at least. I’ll bring you some cream to put on it.” and Jon is about to refuse, but Elias has already disappeared into the bathroom. 

* * *

“I apologize that I can barely bring you back to your grandmother in one piece, but I appreciate your help today, Jon.” Elias laughs as they’re parked outside Jon’s small apartment building. The Bournemouth streets looked different on the drive here, but it’s most likely because by the time they’d left Elias’s house the sun had already set. 

“No, it’s really alright Mister Bouchard,” Jon assures him, wondering why they haven’t gotten out of the car yet. The kitchen light is on, meaning his grandmother is at least home. They sit in silence for a bit until Elias speaks up again.

“Jonathan,” he says as he turns the ignition off. It has the effect of startlingly finality. “I must confess that I haven’t been entirely truthful with you today.” 

He hadn’t expected that. Jon’s hand moves to pick at the skin at his neck while he tries to even out his breathing. Calm down, it’s nothing. He hasn’t been anything but polite and welcoming all day, and he’s not going to change now. Not when Jon’s right outside his own house. 

“You… haven’t?” he asks, barely above a whisper. He can see the porch light.

“No, and I feel rather bad about it,” Elias turns in his seat and Jon’s gaze darts from looking past him to staring directly into his eyes. They’re grey.

“Would you allow me to make it up to you?” Elias asks, and Jon barely hears it. All he can do is give an automated nod as his heart hammers against his ribcage. 

The world freezes, and Elias leans over and kisses him. Jon can barely comprehend what’s happening, let alone move in response to the other’s lips; he’s completely still until Elias brings a hand up to Jon’s cheek and Jon grabs the sleeve of Elias’s coat tight, holding on like it’s the only thing keeping him from drowning. He may be drowning. Is he drowning? He can’t breathe--

Elias pulls away and all at once Jon lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. The rest of his breathing comes in quiet, shallow gulps as he stares intensely down at his shoes, silent. The ground feels as if it’s spinning away from him.

“Come, let’s not keep your grandmother waiting any longer. I’m sure she’s worried sick.” Elias says casually, and opens the car door. Jon nods and follows him, because there isn’t anything else to do.

They walk to the doorstep and Jon counts his steps to keep himself together. Emotions are threatening to spill out of every part of his body, and Mister Bouchard is walking him home. His history professor and club advisor kissed him in his passenger seat and--

“There you are, do you have any idea how late it is?” says his grandmother’s voice. She’s stood in the doorway surrounded by the warm light of the house, already dressed in her robe and slippers. 

Elias places a hand on Jon’s shoulder and the light pressure of the touch is all Jon can process. Not the warmth from the house or the smell of dinner from inside, just that gentle touch.

“That would be my fault, Ms. Sims.” Elias starts. “My name is Elias Bouchard, I run the radio club at the school. I had asked for a favor and didn’t realize the time, my apologies.” 

Her expression seems to soften after Elias introduces himself. “Well, the sun sets so early these days, you know.” his grandmother replies. “Thank you for bringing her home regardless. She must’ve forgotten to remind me.” Jon steps inside awkwardly, for want of something to do. 

“You know that I can’t remember these things. If you need me to pick you up, you’ve got to leave a note on the fridge.” She chides him, to which Jon can only mumble a ‘sorry’.

“Would you want to come in for tea, Mister Bouchard?” she asks, much more hospitable than she usually is. Probably trying to make up for forgetting her only child at school. 

Elias puts up a hand gently. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to politely decline tonight.”

“Another time, then.” his grandmother replies.

Elias smiles and nods slightly and then turns to Jon, who all but wilts from meeting his gaze. Have his eyes always been this intense? Jon feels dizzy just looking at them. “I’ll see you Monday, then.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Jon answers, small.

“Have a good night.” Elias says, and then he’s gone. 

The rest of the night passes in a haze. His grandmother rants to him about politics over the dinner he barely tastes, he completes his chores in silence, and then excuses himself to study in his room. 

In his defense, he does at least make an attempt to. The math equations blur together as his mind shifts to the way Mister Bouchard’s car had smelled. Trying to read the novel he’s currently working through also doesn’t pan out, as all the words in his head all take on the sound of Elias’s voice. 

Eventually, he shuts off all his lights and lays on his mattress, trying to figure out any reasoning as to why what just happened to him  _ happened _ . Racking his brain proves useless, as Jon honestly can’t figure out what about him appeals to Elias. It’s nothing. There is no reason, and it’s…

He doesn’t know what it is. 

_ “I’ll see you Monday, then.”  _ That’s right. Jon is going to go back to school, back to club, and pretend like nothing has happened. He has to-- what other option does he have? His stomach twists itself into knots as he buries his face into his pillow. 

Jon had never kissed anyone before. Elias’s lips had been wet and soft. 

There is a tiny part of him that wishes he’d at least done it better. There is an even smaller part that wishes to do it again. 

In actuality, he lays in bed for what feels like hours, and only manages to fall asleep once he’s picked the scab on his elbow open again. 

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write teacher/student with them, but i thought a club advisor thing could be fun. ham radio seemed to fit them well. i'm american so i hope i wrote the uk school system alright. you guys have such a complicated way of doing things over there! i had to research quite a bit to wrap my head around it, haha.
> 
> title from 'so desperate' by the mountain goats
> 
> thank you for reading! comments are very much appreciated.


End file.
